


In-Laws

by Wtchcool



Series: BIOTP 'verse [1]
Category: Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, The Cape
Genre: Gen, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wtchcool/pseuds/Wtchcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince Faraday's life has just been turned upside down...again. He wakes up to a world where The Cape doesn't exist, Orwell is his wife, and Peter Fleming is his father-in-law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forget the World

Disclaimer: Do I own “The Cape” or “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman”? Yeah, right. Maybe in another universe…  
  
  
Forget the World  
  
  
    Vince draped an arm over his face, trying to block out the light in the room. He didn’t want to open his eyes and face his reality. He wanted to go back to sleep, and go back to the dream he’d been having. He’d been dreaming of being at home, with Dana and Trip, as if everything was normal. He must still be half-asleep. After all, it didn’t feel as if he was in his cave. It almost felt as if he was lying on his bed at home with Dana. Heck, he even felt a body next to him on the bed, proving he was still dreaming of his wife. Just as he had that thought, the bed shifted as the woman next to him stood up.  
  
  
    “Wake up, Vince.”  
  
  
    Orwell’s voice interrupted his dream. Vince groaned, but kept his eyes shut. For the moment, he really wished she didn’t know where his hideout was, or at least, that she would have had the decency to allow him to sleep in for a change.  
  
  
    “Wake up, sleepyhead.”  
  
  
    “Whatever the emergency is, can’t the city take care of itself for another five minutes?” Vince pleaded, before pulling the pillow over his face.  
  
  
    “Always thinking about the job, huh?” Orwell chuckled. “Don’t worry, the city’s safe, Officer Faraday.”  
  
  
    “Then you better have a damn good reason for trying to drag me out of bed,” Vince grumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow. He heard her sigh.  
  
  
    “You forgot didn’t you? You have to get ready. My father’s coming over today.” Her father? What? That got Vince’s attention. He shot up, tossing the pillow aside as his eyes flew open at last. Orwell was standing before him, her arms crossed. She wasn’t wearing one of her designer outfits; she was wearing a bathrobe. What really got Vince’s attention, though, was that his initial impression was correct. He wasn’t in the hideout he thought of as his cave. He was in a bedroom that looked eerily like the one he had shared with Dana before Chess had ruined his life. He realized he was gaping, and shut his mouth.  
  
  
    “Yep, you definitely forgot,” Orwell mock-huffed.  
  
  
    “What’s going on, Orwell?” Vince asked. She blinked in confusion.  
  
  
    “Honey, did you just call me Orwell?”  
  
  
    “That’s what I always call you,” Vince replied. He couldn’t be awake. He must have gone from one dream to another, very bizarre one. He could’ve sworn she just called him honey.  
  
  
    “We’ve been married for two years, and you’ve never called me Orwell before.”  
  
  
    “Married?” Vince choked out. Orwell looked worried now.  
  
  
    “Did something happen while you were on patrol yesterday? Oh, I’ll kill Marty if he let anything happen to you. Scratch that, I’ll kill my father. I told him I’d much rather have you working behind a desk, where I know you’ll be safe. Neither of you ever listen to me.” She peered at him, as if trying to figure out whether he had a concussion. “Does your head hurt? Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?”  
  
  
    “No, I’m--I’m fine,” Vince said, trying to placate his partner. Not his wife, no matter what she seemed to believe.  
  
  
    “Are you sure?”  
  
  
    “Yes.”  
  
  
    “Okay.” She playfully smacked his arm. “Then get up. Breakfast is ready.”  
  
  
    Completely confused, Vince followed her out of the bedroom. He inspected his surroundings, trying to be as surreptitious as possible. They were in a house, which reminded him strongly of the one he had shared with Dana, though there were differences. And there, oh my God. He hoped his shock wasn’t too evident. Where he would’ve expected to see pictures of himself, Dana, and Trip, there were instead pictures of him and Orwell, including, apparently, a wedding photo. What the hell was going on? He didn’t even know Orwell’s real name, but the proof that they were married seemed to be staring him in the face. If he was awake, he was most definitely in the Twilight zone.  
  
  
    Orwell called him over to the dining room table, where she had breakfast laid out for them. There were a few envelopes on the table, and Vince picked them up, hoping to find some answers… Most of the mail was addressed to Vince Faraday, but finally he came across something addressed to: Jamie Faraday. Vince frowned. Whatever Orwell’s last name was, it wasn’t supposed to be Faraday. He blinked. He had, however, discovered Orwell’s first name, hadn’t he? And it was not Julia, after all. He frowned. He hadn’t realized it before, but it struck him that he was hurt that she had never trusted him enough to tell him her real name. He tested it on his tongue.  
  
  
    “Jamie.”  
  
  
    “Yes, Vince?” Jamie smiled. _Good, he doesn’t have amnesia, after all._ Having been busy eating her breakfast, she hadn’t noticed him looking through the mail.  
  
  
    “What,” Vince began, trying to figure out what question to ask first. He settled on, “what time is your father coming over?”  
  
  
    “He should be here soon, unless he stops to do a press conference first.” She laughed, seemingly at some inside-joke. “So hurry up, finish your breakfast, and get ready!”  
  
  
    Vince didn’t know what else to say. This didn’t feel like a dream, as surreal as everything was. How could he explain to Orwell, or rather, Jamie, that he wasn’t her husband, he was Dana’s? That he didn’t have the slightest idea who her father was? Good lord, had she called him Officer Faraday? Was he still a police officer in this reality?  
  
  
    This reality…the words had popped into his mind. He had never believed in alternate universes before, but now he wasn’t sure what to think. If this was an alternate universe, how had he gotten here? How could he get back? And, perhaps the most pressing question at the moment, what had happened in this world? He obviously wasn’t in hiding, so that had to mean he had never been accused of being Chess. He scowled automatically, as he always did when thinking of Peter Fleming.  
  
  
    Jamie hadn’t recognized the name Orwell, so she had never become the mysterious blogger, dedicated to bringing down the sociopath. Vince wondered what on earth had happened to Dana.  
  


* * *

    Vince finished getting dressed just as the doorbell rang. He heard Jamie opening the door and greeting her father, before she yelled for him.  
  
  
    “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Vince said as he strolled towards them. And then he froze, and he was sure his eyes were bulging out. There by the doorway, an arm draped around Jamie’s shoulders, was none other than Peter Fleming.  
  
  
   _Holy crap._ Chess was his father-in-law.  
  
  
**Author’s Note: Thoughts? Want to know how Vince got there? Why he hasn’t attacked Fleming yet? Why this first chapter is so short? Inspiration is greatly appreciated.**


	2. Ruled the World

Disclaimer: Let’s see, I own a chess set, but I don’t own Chess.  
  
  
 _Peter._  
  
  
    Maybe if he just ignored the voice, it would go away, Peter Fleming thought, as he sipped his morning coffee.  
  
  
 _Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t ignore me, Peter._ The CEO of ARK Corporation closed his eyes for a moment. It was true. He couldn’t ignore Chess.  
  
  
 _Doesn’t something seem off?_ Peter glanced around his living room. Everything seemed fine to him.  
  
  
 _Oh, really? Then where are my contacts?  
_  
  
    “They are,” Peter cut himself off, and closed his mouth. He was not going to start talking to Chess aloud. The last thing he needed was for people to find him talking to himself. Instead, he put down his mug of coffee, and shuffled over to where he usually kept the box for his alterego’s contacts. (He’d have gotten rid of the damn things if he thought the act would keep Chess away, but he knew better than that. At least with the contacts in, Peter wouldn’t have to worry about looking in a mirror and seeing Chess looking out of his own eyes.) He frowned. The box wasn’t where it was supposed to be. None of his employees or business associates would have been stupid enough to move it. Perhaps there had been a break-in?  
  
  
 _Honestly, Peter. You really think someone went through all of the trouble of getting past our security to break-in and steal a pair of contacts?  
_  
  
    Fleming crossed his arms over his chest. This was why he wanted to find a psychiatrist that would help him to get rid of Chess once and for all--not because of his homicidal temper, but because the villain was the only one who dared to insult Peter’s intelligence. Alright, ignore the psychopath and think about this logically. For whatever reason, the contacts were missing; had anything else been tampered with?  
  
  
 _Check on the mask--  
_  
  
    Peter was one step ahead of him and already heading towards the closet where he’d hidden Chess’ mask and costume. His heart sped up when he realized that they too, were gone. If someone was trying to blackmail him with proof that he was Chess, he was playing a very dangerous game.  
  
  
 _Peter, did you see that? Look on the bureau._ A picture frame had caught Chess’ attention. Peter moved to inspect the photo, and nearly dropped it. It was a photograph of himself and his daughter, Jamie, one that hadn’t been there the night before…because it hadn’t existed. He hadn’t posed for this picture; it was much too recent. Jamie had gone missing (he refused to think ‘run away’) years ago. She was clearly older in the photograph, about the age she should be today, but he knew at once that it was her.  
  
  
    “How is that possible?” he murmured. He gently placed the frame back on top of the bureau. I must be going mental, he thought.  
  
  
 _We’re not mental, _ Chess insisted. Peter nearly snorted at the irony, when he noticed the light on his answering machine was blinking. He absentmindedly pressed the play button. Maybe he’d be able to explain these anomalies after he finished his coffee…  
  
 _  
“Mr. Fleming…”  
_  
  
    He knew that voice, but, no, it couldn’t be. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Marty Voyt, his former Chief of Police, was dead. There was no way a dead person had left a message for him last night.   
  
  
_“It’s Marty…”  
_  
  
    Fleming grimaced. He could feel a headache coming on. Better grab the acetaminophen…Wait! What did that say? He pressed the rewind button and then replayed the message.  
  
  
 _“You said to remind you that your daughter, Jamie, is expecting you at…”  
_  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    His chauffeur had the car ready for him when he left the penthouse. As he settled back in the seat, he mentally listed the inconsistencies. There was no sign of Chess’ existence, aside from the presence he’d grown to live with and the occasional voice in his head. Not only had the entire costume disappeared, but a hasty web search before his departure had pulled up nothing on the menace of Palm City. There was nothing about the murders he’d committed, the demands for his capture, or the supposed revelation of his secret identity.  
  
  
    He had even done a follow up search on the name “Vince Faraday,” but no obituaries had popped up. There had been some data on his career with ARK, but Peter barely glanced at it in his hurry. He’d have to take a closer look later, though. He swore he read something about Faraday, not Voyt, being his Chief of Police.   
  
  
    Speaking of which, there had been no obituaries for “Marty Voyt,” either, which was just as well, since he couldn’t deny that that had been Voyt’s voice on the answering machine. So Scales hadn’t killed him in this…whatever this was. (Perhaps it was a fantasy. He’d gone beyond Multiple Personality Disorder, and was now having delusions that he wasn’t estranged from his daughter…)  
  
  
    Well, that would explain why Scales wasn’t in prison. He hadn’t discovered that fact through the web. He’d discovered it on his way out, as he’d run smack into Dominic Raoul. Just as he was about to ask what the bloody hell Scales was doing on his doorstep, he learned yet another astonishing fact.  
  
  
    Scales was his bodyguard. And, as far as Peter could tell, Scales didn’t want to kill him.  
  
  
 _Well, of course not,_ Chess put in. _Why would we hire a bodyguard that wants to kill us?  
_  
  
    Again with the implied insults to his intelligence. Peter sighed. This Scales just struck him as too compliant, too quick to please him, as if he didn’t consider himself an equal.  
  
  
 _He was never our equal, Peter.  
_  
  
    No, but last time Fleming checked, Scales thought he was. This Scales just wanted to know if he should accompany Peter to Jamie’s house. Not necessary, Peter had assured him, wondering what on earth would possess him to take that brute with him when he went to visit his daughter.  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    The car pulled to a stop in front of a house. He supposed it might be considered lovely or cozy, but it struck him as modest. No, modest was an understatement. Jamie was his daughter, the heir apparent to ARK Corporation. His ballerina should be living in a mansion or a palace.  
  
  
 _Are you going to stand here critiquing the place all day? I thought you couldn’t wait to see her again.  
_  
  
    Too true, he acknowledged, though he seriously wished Chess would quit with the running commentary. Steeling himself, Peter rang the doorbell. The door was flung open almost immediately, revealing…  
  
  
    “Jamie!” He embraced her in a tight hug. Oh, God! He really had thought he’d never see her again. After all, no amount of bribing or threatening his sources had gotten him any closer to finding her. He’d even unleashed Chess, to no avail. But what did that matter now? She was here!  
  
  
    “Dad!” Jamie returned her father’s embrace, though she pulled back faster than he would have liked. “It’s good to see you.” She glanced at the doorway behind her. “Sorry, he woke up late this morning.”  
  
  
    “He?”  
  
  
    “Come on, Dad. Not you, too. Bad enough that my husband acted as though he couldn’t remember my name earlier. I don’t need my father pretending he has amnesia.” She turned behind her and called out, “HURRY UP! Dad’s here!”  
  
  
    Peter draped an arm across Jamie’s shoulders, as he tried to register what she had just said. Her husband? His princess had gotten married? He heard a voice emanating from another room.  
  
  
    “I’m coming! I’m coming!” The owner of the voice walked into the room, took one look at Peter, and froze in shock. Peter smiled, glad that he evidently was more adept at keeping the shock off of his own face than the man before him. Of all the men his daughter could have married…  
  
  
    “You!”  
  
  
    “I must say, Faraday, you look surprisingly well,” for someone who ought to be dead, he finished silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the plot thickens. Don’t expect me to keep updating this fast, ok?
> 
>  
> 
> So, first time writing from Fleming’s POV. What did everyone think? Disappointed that Vince won’t get to meet AU Fleming, after all? Want to give poor Vince a hug?


	3. What a Wonderful World

For Disclaimer, see one of the previous chapters.  
  
  
     _Orwell is Fleming’s daughter?! How is that even possible?_ Vince wondered. _What did he do, become a dad at thirteen?_ Maybe Fleming was really old…unless, Jamie was really young…Oh God. Did his counterpart rob the cradle?   
  
  
    “How old are you?” Vince blurted out. Both Flemings looked at him strangely. Instead of replying to Vince, Jamie turned to her father.  
  
  
    “What do you mean: he looks ‘surprisingly well’? Surprisingly well considering what? What happened to him yesterday?”  
  
  
    Peter’s lips thinned. He didn’t know what had happened to Faraday. He was having enough trouble remembering what happened to him. He thought he remembered fighting The Cape last night; it was all a bit hazy…  
  
  
    The younger man was certainly acting strangely. Why did he seem surprised to see him? Jamie must have told Vince that he was coming. It was as if he didn’t remember who his father-in-law was. And Jamie had said that Faraday didn’t remember her name this morning. Most suspicious… Dodging his daughter’s question, he addressed her husband.  
  
  
    “I’m 43.” Watching Faraday’s face, he added, “Jamie came along when I was twenty.”  
  
  
    Vince did the math before he could stop himself. This was crazy! He had way better things to worry about at the moment than the fact that there was a twelve year age difference between this world’s Mr. and Mrs. Faraday. For instance: how the hell did he wind up with Chess as his father-in-law?  
  
  
    “Are you alright, Vince?” Jamie asked. Her face was etched with concern.  
  
  
    “I think I need to sit down.” She guided him over to the couch in the living room. Peter sat down in the chair across from him.   
  
  
    Vince couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Orwell was Chess’ daughter. Boy was she good at keeping secrets! Vince remembered the taunting Trip had faced about being “Chess’ son” and felt a wave of sympathy for her.  
  
  
    “Really, Dad, does he have to spend so much time in the field?”  
  
  
    “He is Palm City’s Chief of Police. He--” Peter paused. Faraday’s eyes had widened considerably at that pronouncement. _Why wouldn’t he know his own job title?_ Chess asked. He sounded as if he knew something Peter didn’t.  
  
  
    “But Marty…” Vince trailed off. Of course. Marty wasn’t married to Fleming’s daughter. He’d gotten a promotion because Fleming engaged in nepotism. He shivered. Was Marty still alive here? He thought so; hadn’t Jamie been cursing Marty earlier for not keeping an eye on him?  
  
  
     _Funny how he thought Voyt was the Chief of Police, isn’t it, Peter?_ What was Chess getting at? In his world, Faraday had died before Peter had appointed Voyt to the position. He looked at the coffee table and finally noticed that there was a chess board set up. He turned to look at his daughter and raised a brow.  
  
  
    “Oh! I guess I can take that away. I got it ready since you always play chess when you come over.” Jamie didn’t catch Vince’s expression; Peter did. Startled and horrified; how interesting. “But there’s no need for you to crush Vince when he isn’t feeling well,” she finished.  
  
  
    “Now, hang on. Are you sure you’re not up for a game, Faraday?”  
  
  
    “‘Faraday’? Dad, seriously? Last time I checked, you were both on a first-name basis. Not to mention the fact that I’m a Faraday, too.”  
  
  
    “You’ll always be a Fleming.” Peter held his daughter’s gaze. She didn’t get mad; didn’t scream or argue with him. She just smiled. At that moment, Peter didn’t care how he had gotten here or what else had changed. The only thing that mattered was he had his ballerina back.   
  
  
    “But my apologies. Would you care for a game, _Vince?_ ”  
  
  
    In response, the younger man muttered something unintelligible under his breath. The only words Peter caught were “chess” and “why.”  
  
  
    “Would you excuse me?” Vince stood up. “There’s something I need to check on the computer.”  
  
  
LCLCLCLCLCLCLCLCLCLCLCLC  
  
  
    Tempus grinned. Everything would go smoothly this time. Palm City was the perfect place for the time traveler. It was so far removed from Metropolis, so completely off Superman’s radar. The Kryptonian Boy Scout, his friends, heck, the rest of the world overlooked this place. It was nightmarish. It was a hellhole. It was worse than Gotham was (and wasn’t that saying something). It was, in short, precisely what he was looking for.  
  
  
    There were only two things wrong with it; two persons, rather--The Cape and Chess. He wouldn’t be able to take control of the city while they were around. Chess already controlled it, whether the citizens knew it or not. The Cape might not be quite the superhero that Kent was, but Tempus knew the man would do anything to protect his city.  
  
  
    So they simply had to go.  
  
  
    (Scales didn’t concern him. The man had recently been arrested for murder and he was going to be convicted. No threat to him there. As for Orwell, without her partner she was no more intimidating than Lois Lane without her husband.)  
  
  
    Tempus did his research. Learning their secret identities was child’s play; finding the right universe to put them in was a bit harder. He needed to switch this universe’s Peter Fleming and Vince Faraday with ones that had never donned their costumes.  
  
  
    Curiously, he discovered that in every universe in which there was Chess, there was also The Cape and vice versa. It vaguely reminded him of the phenomenon H.G. Wells described as ‘soul mates.’ He wondered if it was the same with all archenemies. It was almost a shame that he wouldn’t be able to discuss that with Herb.  
  
  
    At any rate, he’d finally selected an appropriate universe and set his plan into action. (He supposed he could have simply used Herb’s time machine to travel to the alternate universe and take over that world’s Palm City, but it wouldn’t be the same. Tempus wanted a Palm City that had been scarred by Chess, Scales, The Lich and other villains, not a Palm City that reminded him too much of that dreadful future called “Utopia.”)  
  
  
    He looked down at the piece of paper he was holding. After that debacle in which he’d brainwashed the American people into electing him President of the United States, he couldn’t reuse the John Doe alias. Not unless he wanted to go around wearing a sign saying, “Superman! Come and get me!” (Though, it was fun to taunt Supes.)  
  
  
    Finally, he wrote down Terry Ivan Matthew Evans. Mayor Evans…that would work.  
  
  
ILILILILILILILILILILILILILIL  
  
  
    Vince sat in front of a computer in the study. He’d just run a search on “Dana Thompson.” He needed to know what had happened to his wife in this reality. Apparently Ms. Thompson was working in the Public Defender’s Office and she was engaged to a professor at the University Of Franklin School Of Law. Vince breathed out slowly. _I should be happy for her._ The important thing was that she was happy…but it was so hard to think of Dana with another man. Vince was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Fleming had entered the room until the man was right over his shoulder and staring at the computer screen.  
  
  
    “What have we here?” Peter asked.  
  
  
   _Peter, wasn’t Faraday married to Thompson in our world?_  
  
  
    “I do hope you’re not having an affair with that lawyer, Vince.” Peter figured the _don’t-you-dare-be-unfaithful-to-my-daughter_ was implied. Faraday gritted his teeth.  
  
  
    “Don’t worry. I would never cheat on my wife.”  
  
  
 _Peter, let me talk to him._ No. He would not let Chess take over.  
  
  
 _Will you at least find out what else Faraday was looking up?  
_  
  
    “May I?” Peter asked. He gestured towards the computer. Vince tried to object, but Fleming nudged him aside and started clicking the browser’s back button. Hmm. Interesting search strings that Faraday used. Looked like he had started with just the word “Chess” and when that hadn’t worked had tried adding “murder,” “killed” and “psycho.” _‘Psycho’ was uncalled for._ It wouldn’t matter what search string he used; he wouldn’t find what he was looking for.  
  
  
 _Now can I talk to him?_ Not yet. _  
_  
  
“Faraday, you do know that Chess doesn’t exist in this world?” Peter drawled. His mind was racing, undoubtedly trying to catch up to Chess. The Faraday of this world shouldn’t have known of the villain’s existence. But he couldn’t possibly be the Faraday from his world; he was dead!  
  
  
 _According to the news reports, so am I.  
_  
  
    The light bulb finally went off. If Chess was right, two deaths had been faked for the price of one.  
  
  
PCPCPCPCPCPCPCPC  
  
  
(Meanwhile…)  
  
  
    “Vince! Are you planning to stay in bed all day?” Orwell asked. Her partner hadn’t opened his eyes.  
  
  
    “Just five more minutes, Jamie.” Orwell froze.  
  
  
    “What did you call me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so at the end of this chapter we have a glimpse of AU Vince in the canon universe.
> 
>  
> 
> There is a reason Vince suspected that Peter Fleming became a father at the age of 13. If the characters’ ages matched the actors’, Vince would have been right. I was unable to find the characters’ ages online. So here’s what I did: I let Vince and Peter keep their actors’ ages. To avoid having to picture Fleming as a teenage father, I took seven years off Glau’s age. Is that plausible enough for you?
> 
>  
> 
> What did you think? Want Chess to override Fleming and talk to Vince? Want to see more of AU Vince? Want to ask me to please accept the kind offer of beta services?
> 
>  
> 
> On another note, I finally saw the clip in which “Community,” erm, “paid homage” to “The Cape.” In all seriousness, the show really should have gotten “SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE!” All in favor?


	4. Waiting On the World to Change

_“Taking my reputation from me was the same as killing me.” -Harry Wilde (_ The Dancing Ghost _, by Patricia Gaffney)_  
 _  
Waiting On The World to Change_  
  
  
    “Guess I better get up before your father gets h…” Vince trailed off as he sat up and opened his eyes. Okay, this was **not** the bedroom he and Jamie shared. It didn’t look like any room in the house.   
  
  
    “Where are we?”  
  
  
    “In a nightmare,” Orwell whispered. Vince had called her by her name and the only way that was possible was if she was hallucinating. Why was this happening to her? She had _finally_ stopped seeing that blasted door and hoped that meant that the Lich’s toxin was completely out of her system. She must have been wrong.   
  
  
    “Honey? Are you okay?” Vince asked. His wife was acting strangely, but it hardly distracted him from the fact that he had woken up in a strange place. How did they get here? How would Peter be able to find them here?  
  
  
    “I’m losing my mind; how could I be okay?” Orwell barely noticed as Vince got off the bed, picked up his cell phone and started dialing a number.  
  
  
    “Hello, Peter?”  
  
  
 _“Vince! Where the hell are you?”  
_  
  
    “I’m not--”  
  
  
 _“I know you’re not at the house because I was just there! And someone answered the door and told me the Faradays didn’t live there!”  
_  
  
    “What?”  
  
  
 _“And I tried to call you, but I couldn’t! Your number isn’t in my phone and when I tried to ask my assistant for it, he looked at me like I was crazy!”  
_  
  
    Orwell seemed to come out of a daze. She looked at Vince and her brows furrowed.   
  
  
    “Who are you talking to?” she demanded. “Give me that phone!” Obediently, Vince handed it over.  
  
  
 _“Jamie? Is that you? Where are you?”_ Orwell ended the call and stared at the phone in her hands. That was her father’s voice.  
  
  
    “Jamie! Why did you hang up on your father?”  
  
  
    “Please! As if you would have called him if you were real.”  
  
  
    “What are you talking about?”  
  
  
    “I’m talking about you being mortal enemies. I don’t even know why I’m talking to a figment of my imagination…” Vince took a deep breath. For some reason, Jamie thought this wasn’t real. He wouldn’t get any answers until he convinced her otherwise. He went up to her and pinched her arm, hard.  
  
  
    “Ow! What was that…Wait. That actually hurt.”  
  
  
    “Now that we’ve established that you’re awake, I have a few questions. Like: where are we? Why did you hang up on Peter and why would we be mortal enemies?” Orwell mouthed ‘Peter,’ her face full of disbelief.   
  
  
    “If this is really happening, then how do you know my name?” Vince stared at her. Was she serious?  
  
  
    “You’re my wife! How could I not? Jamie?” Vince wrapped an arm around her waist, fearing that she was about to pass out. She looked up into his concerned eyes and managed to choke out a response.  
  
  
    “We’re not married.” He really didn’t believe her. Maybe it wasn’t _her_ sanity that was in jeopardy. She led him over to the bulletin board and pointed out the picture of Dana and Trip. “Recognize them?”  
  
  
    Vince peered at the photo.  
  
  
    “I think so. That’s that public defender, Thompson. She’s cross-examined me a few times. Is that her son?” Orwell nodded slowly. Something was terribly wrong if Vince couldn’t remember Trip. If only she knew what it was. Vince looked at her, silently asking for answers. She took a deep breath.  
  
  
    “Vince, this is where you live. It’s where you’ve lived since Chess betrayed you.”  
  
  
    “I don’t understand. Who is Chess?”  
  
  
    “You should know; you were just on the phone with him.” Seeing Vince about to protest, Orwell went over to the computer and pulled up the footage from the day that changed Vince’s life forever.  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    Peter stared at the phone in his hands. Did Jamie actually hang up on him? Could this day get any worse? People were staring at him as if he had two heads and why? All he’d done was inquire about Vince and his daughter. It was as if their number and their home had changed overnight. Maybe he should make an appointment with his therapist… Hmm. That number was still in his phone…but (he checked) apparently, it was out of service.  
  
  
    He looked at the man next to him, who claimed to be his bodyguard. What had happened to Raoul?   
  
  
VFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    “You son of a bitch! You’re behind this, aren’t you?” Vince accused. He swung at Fleming, but the older man threw his arms up and blocked the blow.  
  
  
    “Temper, temper. Take it easy, Faraday. Your wife is in the other room. What would she say if she saw you assaulting her father?” That made Vince back off. “To answer your question, I understand that you’re under the impression that I’m the root of all evil.” _Well, I don’t understand it._ “However, I did not cause our current predicament.” Peter assessed Faraday. “You really didn’t die in that explosion.” It wasn’t a question.  
  
  
    “So sorry to disappoint you,” Vince spit out. He hadn’t meant to give himself away, but how was he supposed to know that Fleming had also traveled to this dimension? Alright; things could be worse. At least Fleming didn’t know that he was The Cape. He headed for the door.  
  
  
    “Where are you going?” Peter asked.  
  
  
    “To find my punching bag. At least I can pretend I’m hitting your face.” Peter considered this for a moment before following his supposed son-in-law.  
  
  
VFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    “Feeling better?” Peter asked. Faraday was covered in sweat and still attacking the punching bag like his life depended on it.  
  
  
    “Somewhat,” Vince replied.  
  
  
    “Perhaps we could talk.”  
  
  
    “I--have--nothing--to--say--to--you.”   
  
  
    “Oh, I doubt that.” Faraday finally stopped throwing punches and paused to catch his breath.  
  
  
    “What do you want me to say?” Vince asked. “That I hate you? That you stole my life right out from under me? For God’s sake, you tried to kill me and you might as well have!” Vince rubbed his arms. His muscles were going to be sore later.  
  
  
    “Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”  
  
  
    “‘Overdramatic’? You made everyone think that I was you!”   
  
  
    For a moment they were both silent. Peter didn’t have an answer for that. He was not about to admit that he had half-hoped that if he could convince the public that Chess was no more, the villain would magically cease to exist. His daughter had picked up her bad habit of reading the end of a book first from him. He’d read “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” It didn’t end well for Dr. Jekyll.  
  
  
    Faraday didn’t realize that Chess was a separate personality. The only one who knew that was their ex-psychiatrist. Once Peter found out the shrink had lied to him, he made the man beg for mercy--not that any was forthcoming.   
  
  
    Faraday finally broke the silence.  
  
  
    “I never pictured you as a father…Jamie…doesn’t have your accent.”  
  
  
    “She wouldn’t. She was born and raised here in the States. I always meant to take her on a trip to England, but,” he shrugged. He didn’t want to start on his list of regrets.   
  
  
    Vince digested Fleming’s response. It still didn’t tell him what he wanted to know.  
  
  
    “How does Jamie stand you?”  
  
  
    “She doesn’t.” Peter cleared his throat and then elaborated. “In our world, she doesn’t. We haven’t spoken in years. I suspect that this world is different because I never became Chess. I wonder if I can unobtrusively ask her what happened to her mother. She was taken from us in our world. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t the same afterwards.”   
  
  
    He had no clue why he was pouring himself out to Faraday. Something about the man’s appearance was bothering him. It was _so familiar_ …But that was to be expected. The face of the supposed villain had been splashed all over the television networks, as if to make sure Peter didn’t forget about his latest victim.  
  
  
    “Fleming…We have to figure out how we got here.” Vince really didn’t want to suggest that they work together. So why was that on the tip of his tongue? Must be because he was the only person here he could turn to; everyone else would think he was crazy. “We have to figure out how to get back.”  
  
  
    “Faraday, maybe I deserve your hatred. But hear me out. Why do we have to find our way back? What’s waiting for us back there? You said yourself that you might as well be dead. The life you knew is over. Yes, I’m responsible for that, but that’s the way it is. And I--” He paused. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed my daughter. I don’t know where she is back there. If we stay here, we can have what we want. You’ll have your name back; you can go to work--”  
  
  
    “You mean for you.” Vince scoffed at the absurdity of the idea. Fleming gestured impatiently.  
  
  
    “Fine, quit your job at ARK and find another if it will make you feel better. That’s not the point. The point is that here you can have a career and at the end of the day you can go home to your family. Everyone wins.” Vince shook his head.  
  
  
    “But this isn’t my family!”  
  
  
    “Because you don’t love Jamie.”  
  
  
    “Because Dana and Trip are my family! Do you realize Trip doesn’t exist in this world? God knows how I--how the other me didn’t wind up with Dana.”  
  
  
    “It could be as simple as their paths didn’t cross until it was too late.”  
  
  
    “Regardless, I have to get back.” _I need them and Palm City needs me.  
_  
  
    “Nonsense; what you have to do is take a shower. You can’t sit down to dinner like this.”   
  
  
    Vince scowled and started to storm off. Fleming caught his arm.  
  
  
    “Just think about what I said. Okay?”  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF      
  
  
    Later, after Vince had showered and changed, the three sat down to dinner. Peter turned towards his daughter.  
  
  
    “Jamie, you never did tell me what Fa--what Vince called you this morning.” Jamie failed to see Vince gesturing frantically with his hands, pleading with her not to answer the question.  
  
  
    “It was the strangest thing. Wait; let me think. It was the name of an author. Wells? No, that wasn’t it.” Vince’s gestures became more frenzied, even as Peter’s eyes widened a fraction.  
  
  
    “Ah; now I remember! He called me Orwell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it still a cliffhanger if you anticipated it?
> 
>  
> 
> And now is the point where you get to be heard. Any confusion about switching between universes? I can use labels in the future if you guys want. Satisfied with the characters’ reactions? Getting tired of all the question marks? You know what to do.
> 
>  
> 
> IronAmerica gets the credit for the origins of Chess, although I’m not going into detail in the story.


	5. Rich Man's World

The cell door clanged open. Two large guards stood in the opening. The prisoner was lounging on the cot, wearing the usual orange jumpsuit. With his face in the shadows, one almost missed the effects of the chronic skin condition that had given him his moniker.   
  
  
    “Get up, Scales! You have a visitor.” Dominic Raoul’s eyes shone as he got to his feet.  
  
  
    “An’ who might that be?” He wasn’t answered right away. He was handcuffed and led by the arms from his cell. It wasn’t until they entered the room where the prisoners could sit by the glass barriers and greet their visitors (via phone) that one of the guards replied.  
  
  
    “It’s Peter Fleming.” At the same moment, Scales caught sight of Fleming. The smuggler’s eyes widened as his blood started to boil.  
  
  
    “YOU!” he screamed. “SHITE! YOU BLOODY TOSSER! YOU--” Scales started struggling in the guards’ arms, wanting nothing more than to get his hands on Fleming and beat him senseless. That lying son-of-a-bitch was the reason he was condemned to rot in this prison.   
  
  
    They’d had a deal! Scales was supposed to be _rewarded_ for silencing Voyt and taking on The Cape. Instead, he found himself on Owl Island, awaiting trial for first degree murder; meanwhile, Fleming was Scott-free. He waltzed around as if he owned the town (which probably wasn’t far from the truth). His name was completely unconnected from the death of the former Chief of Police. That backstabbing… Scales lost consciousness as the tranquilizer that another guard had injected him with took effect.   
  
  
    “DOMINIC?!” Peter stared aghast. He hadn’t been able to believe his ears when he’d been told that Raoul was incarcerated and now he refused to believe his eyes. No sooner had Dominic caught sight of him than he started screaming and attempted to lurch out of his captors’ grasp, a murderous expression on his face, until he was sedated.  
  
  
    “I told you something like this would happen.” Peter glanced at the man who was his bodyguard in this reality and shook his head.  
  
  
    “I don’t understand.” The Dominic Raoul from his world would take a bullet for him. Come to think of it, one time he did. Ever since Peter had had that abusive excuse for a foster parent arrested, the circus shut down and given him a job at ARK, Raoul had been a paragon of loyalty. Why on earth would his counterpart want to kill him?  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    “Vince? Are you okay?” Orwell looked at her partner’s face. He was still staring at the computer screen, his mouth agape. Rather than jogging his memory, the footage of the day he’d “died” had only horrified and confused him. “I can give you a ride to Trolley Park--as long as you remember that the Carnival knows me as Julia or Orwell, not Jamie Fleming.”  
  
  
    “Jamie _Faraday_ ,” Vince corrected. Orwell shook her head; maybe in her dreams.  
  
  
    “Or would you prefer that I call and see if Max or Rollo will come over?”  
  
  
    “Who?”  
  
  
    “You don’t remember them? The name Max Malini doesn’t ring any bells?”  
  
  
    “Malini…You mean the alcoholic magician/thief?” Orwell snorted.  
  
  
    “I’m sure he’d love to know what you think of him.”  
  
  
    “And Rollo was the little guy with the big attitude, right? Didn’t we arrest Malini and his gang awhile back?”  
  
  
    “Arrest: are you kidding? They’re the ones that took you in after that excuse for a human being put an abrupt end to your career as a police officer. Who do you think gave you the cape?”  
  
  
    “What cape?” Orwell opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before leading Vince over to where he kept his costume.  
  
  
    “ _This_ cape.” She proceeded to remind him about his heroic alter ego. (It helped that Vince remembered the comic books.) “We better get you checked for toxins. I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone right now.”  
  
  
    “You’re leaving?” She nodded.  
  
  
    “Someone just entered the race for mayor of Palm City this morning: Terry Ivan Matthew Evans. Even I couldn’t find out anything about him; it’s as if he just came out of thin air. He’s obviously hiding something. I’ve arranged an appointment with him under one of my aliases. I smell another exclusive for Orwell Is Watching.”  
  
  
    “For what?”  
  
  
    “My blog; I go by the name ‘Orwell.’”  
  
  
    “Orwell, as in the author of 1984 and Animal Farm?”  
  
  
    “The same. It seemed fitting. I want him to know that whatever he’s up to, I’ll catch him and expose it.” Vince understood that she was talking about Peter.  
  
  
    “Last time I checked, you wrote for The Palm City Times.”  
  
  
    “Make that checked for toxins and hypnotism. If this is some sick practical joke of Ruvi’s, I’ll kill him.” At Vince’s blank look, she elaborated. “The hypnotist that keeps complaining that you’re cramping his style.” She pursed her lips. “But Ruvi doesn’t know who I am. I’d really like to know how you found that out.”  
  
  
    “What are you talking about?”  
  
  
    “I’m talking about the fact that you somehow found out my name when you can’t even remember your son’s!”  
  
  
    “My what? Jamie, we don’t have a son.”  
  
  
    “No, _we_ don’t. _You_ do. Ten years old, about yay high, answers to Trip Faraday?” Finally, Orwell gestured to the picture she’d shown him earlier.  
  
  
    “You’re saying that I had a son with Dana Thompson?”  
  
  
    “Your wife; yes, you did.”   
  
  
    “My wife?! Now wait a minute--”   
  
  
    Orwell glanced at her watch. “Damn it! I have to leave. Just promise me you won’t call my father again while I’m gone. Remember that he’s your enemy. He’s the homicidal maniac that framed you for his crimes and last, but not least, _he thinks you’re dead_!”  
  
  
    “You’re wrong; he doesn’t. Listen to me! When I called him earlier, he called me Vince. He knew who I was, knew I was alive and wanted to know why he couldn’t find us at our house.”  
  
  
    “Sounds like whoever kidnapped your mind took his, as well. Alright; yes, that is bizarre. Look: the two of you were fighting last night.”  
  
  
    “We were?”      
  
  
    “It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence for Chess and The Cape, especially since what happened to Marty.”  
  
  
    “What happened to him?”  
  
  
    Orwell gave him a pitying look. She decided that he’d had enough of her bluntness and ignored the question.  
  
  
    “Something must’ve happened to you last night. We’ll get to the bottom of this--just as soon as I return.” She paused on her way out of Vince’s hideout. “Meanwhile, don’t forget to keep a low profile. Vince Faraday is supposed to be dead.”  
  
  
VFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    Peter arrived back at the penthouse feeling drained. His trip to Owl Island had been an unmitigated disaster. He still didn’t have any clue as to the whereabouts of his daughter or his son-in-law; Vince had yet to call back. He was too tired to figure out what was happening. Maybe he should go lie down and… _What was that?_ There was someone else in his home; some lunatic must have gotten past his security.  
  
  
    “Show yourself!” Peter was glad his voice was steady. The intruder stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a mask and some sort of cape. “I warn you, I--”  
  
  
    “Peter! It’s me!” The billionaire took a closer look at the masked man.  
  
  
    “ _Vince?_ Why the hell are you dressed like that?”  
  
  
AUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
    Jamie’s words hung in the air. Peter slowly stood up from the table and addressed Faraday.  
  
  
    “I’d like a word with you.”  
  
  
    “Dad, we just sat down to dinner!” Jamie protested. Her father ignored her. Faraday finally rose.  
  
  
    “Don’t worry, Jamie. This shouldn’t take long.” Vince followed Fleming from the room. They heard her call after them.  
  
  
    “The food is going to go cold!”  
  
  
    “There’s always the microwave!” Vince yelled back.  
  
  
    Back in the study, Vince closed the door behind them. He turned around to see that Fleming had taken a chair.   
  
  
    “I don’t understand. Orwell--the blogger that’s been trying to expose me for months--is _my daughter_?” His voice was full of pain. He looked Faraday in the eye. “You know her!”  
  
  
    “I didn’t know she was your daughter. Can‘t imagine why she’d want to keep that a secret.” Vince spat.   
  
  
    “You know where she is; you could bring me to her!”  
  
  
    “I thought you wanted to stay here.” Fleming deflated.  
  
  
    “I did; I do. How could I possibly go back there? My own daughter hates me so much that she’s one of my two sworn enemies.”   
  
  
    “She doesn’t hate you.” At Fleming’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “You should have seen her face when she found out that Dice was out to kill you. I’ve never seen her so angry. Funny that I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”  
  
  
    Peter’s spirits lifted for a moment. Then a suspicious look crossed his face. “How exactly do you know her?”  
  
  
    Vince fought the urge to grimace and decided to tell him part of the truth.  
  
  
    “Who do you think gave me that tip about the explosives?”  
  
  
    Peter blinked. So that was why Faraday was down at the train yards that fateful evening. A hollow laugh escaped Peter’s lips.  
  
  
    “So it took two Flemings to ruin your life.” That set Faraday off.  
  
  
    “Excuse me! She wasn’t the one who stapled a mask to my head and sent half the police department after me and--” Peter cut off Faraday’s indignant rant with a hand.   
  
  
    “Yes, fine. Everything’s my fault. Happy?”  
  
  
 _Peter, wasn’t Orwell supposed to be in league with The Cape?_ He winced; as if the betrayal hadn’t hurt enough before…Wait a minute.  
  
  
    “You’ve met The Cape, haven’t you?” Vince paled.  
  
  
    “Why would you think that?”  
  
  
    “Because you and he are--my daughter’s only known associates. You know who he is, don‘t you?”  
  
  
    “No, I don’t.”  
  
  
 _He’s lying._ Well, obviously. Alright; maybe he was approaching things from the wrong angle…  
  
  
    “Any theories yet on how we got here, Faraday? No?”  
  
  
    “I thought you didn’t care.”  
  
  
    “I don’t care about getting back, but I am curious as to the how and the why. What’s the last thing you remember before waking up this morning?”  
  
  
    Vince shook his head. The last thing he remembered…that would be him battling Chess; all the more reason he’d been quick to assume that Fleming was behind this. He couldn’t exactly say that, though.  
  
  
    “Alright, don’t tell me. Now, assuming we weren’t sent here by some twist of fate, someone is behind this. Someone, for whatever reason, wanted to send the two of us away.”  
  
  
    “Not a fan of your charming personality, then,” Vince threw in.  
  
  
    “Someone must have wanted me out of the way, either because I’m the head of ARK Corporation or--”  
  
  
    “Because you’re Chess.”  
  
  
    “Indeed.” Peter didn’t like the idea that someone else might have discovered Chess’ identity, but he pushed on with his train of thought. “The question is: why would someone feel threatened by you?” Vince shifted uneasily.  
  
  
     _Don’t be thick, Peter._ What was that supposed to mean?  
  
  
 _Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you haven’t even recognized his voice?_ Peter listened as Faraday struggled to make some far-fetched theory sound plausible. The voice did sound eerily familiar, now that he thought about it.  
  
  
 _What do you suppose Faraday would look like if he was wearing a mask?_ What, as in Chess’ mask? A memory of him standing over Faraday, holding a stapler emerged. _No, not that mask._ He looked into the younger man’s eyes and cursed.   
  
  
    “Someone has a sick sense of humor, sending the two of us here, Cape,” Peter drawled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to IA for helping me with AU! Scales’ back-story and fact-checking.
> 
> Well, readers, what did you think? Too confusing? Too much torturing Peter? Too many revelations or just right?


	6. The Whole Damn World

(Welcome to Canon)  
  
  
    “Mr. Evans, a Miss Greenwood is here to see you,” the secretary’s voice came over the intercom. Tempus smiled and buzzed her back.  
  
  
    “Send her in.” He rose to greet the young woman that entered his new office. “Julia Greenwood?” Orwell hesitated before shaking his hand.  
  
  
    “Mr. Evans, thank you for agreeing to this interview.”  
  
  
    “The pleasure is mine.”  
  
  
    “I just have a few questions. I’m sure my readers--”  
  
  
    “You mean the Herald’s readers?” Tempus interjected as she took a seat across from him.  
  
  
    “Right; the paper’s readers will want to know more about you.”  
  
  
    “Go ahead.”  
  
  
    “Mr. Evans, what makes you think that you’re qualified to be mayor of Palm City? You don’t seem to have any experience in politics.” Tempus laughed and considered telling her that he had run a successful campaign for president of the United States-- _how’s that for experience?_ Considering that that would lead to follow-up questions that he wouldn’t want to answer, he refrained.  
  
  
    “Miss Greenwood, look around you. This city is in desperate need of new leadership. Criminals run rampant; corruption permeates ARK Corporation. Why the last chief of police was murdered before he could be tried by a jury of his peers--as, I understand, was his former partner. Officer Faraday, wasn’t it?”  
  
  
    “That’s right.” Evans seemed pretty up-to-date for someone who was new to Palm City. “And you think you can save the city from itself?” she asked skeptically. She didn’t believe his rhetoric for a minute.  
  
  
    “Someone has to. If it isn’t going to be Peter Fleming, it might as well be me, Orwell.” Jamie’s eyes grew wide, but Evans coughed and continued. “Excuse me, or well if it isn’t me, who will clean up the city--surely not that law-breaking vigilante who stole his gimmick from a comic-book?”  
  
  
    Orwell didn’t say anything. For a moment, she had been positive that Evans had said her name and that he knew who she was. Now, she wasn’t sure what to think.  
  
  
    “If you’re referring to The Cape, he’s done more good for this city--”  
  
  
    “Than ARK? I wouldn’t question that. All the more reason we need to clean up city hall. We need a mayor who will be able to stand up to Peter Fleming.” Orwell stood from her chair.  
  
  
    “I think that will do for now, Mr. Evans. Thank you for your time.” She turned to go. Tempus called after her.  
  
  
    “Oh, Miss Greenwood? Do give your father my regards when you get the chance. After all, this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for him.” Orwell stopped and stared at Evans. It couldn’t be! That SOB was working for her father and knew who she was? The next thing she knew, security guards were escorting her outside.  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    “Well?” Peter waited for his son-in-law to explain his unusual attire.  
  
  
    “Well, apparently I’m some sort of superhero.”  
  
  
    “That’s absurd.” Peter wondered whether he needed to place a call to Dr. Samuel. Then he remembered that he had tried calling the therapist earlier and it didn’t work.  
  
  
    “You think that’s absurd? What about this whole situation we’re in or did you not notice that we’ve landed in some strange alternate-universe?” Peter frowned.  
  
  
    “I was wondering why strangers were in your house, as if they owned the place. And it isn’t like Jamie to hang up on me.” It would also explain why Raoul was incarcerated. He cast a critical eye over Vince. “So you’re saying that your alternate-self goes around in tights? Is he mental?”  
  
  
    “You haven’t heard, yet, have you?”  
  
  
    “Heard what?”  
  
  
    “Peter, in this world, we’re supposed to be enemies.”  
  
  
    “I beg your pardon?”  
  
  
    “Well--”  
  
  
    “Hang on. Take off that ridiculous mask.” Vince did as he was told. “Better; you were saying?”  
  
  
    “First off, I’m not the only one with an alterego. When you’re wearing your costume, they call you ‘Chess.’” Peter blinked. Chess was his favorite board game, but he couldn’t picture himself going around in a mask.  
  
  
    “So, you’re supposed to be my sidekick? Or are we partners?”  
  
  
    “No, you don’t get it. I told you: we’re enemies. I’m the hero and, well…”  
  
  
    “And that would make me the villain?”  
  
  
    “Exactly.”  
  
  
    “Oh, honestly! Look, I’ll admit that not all of ARK’s business dealings are on the up-and-up--”  
  
  
    “What?”  
  
  
    “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.” Peter leveled a stern gaze upon Vince before continuing. “But I don’t see how that suddenly makes me a super villain.”  
  
  
    “How about being a serial killer? There’s a list of homicides with Chess’ name on it; it would probably be longer if you add some unsolved cases.”  
  
  
    “There has to be some mistake. I could never--”  
  
  
    “I know. It wasn’t you; it was the other-you.” This was seriously going to give him a headache. “The thing is, you--I mean--he framed me for his crimes.”  
  
  
    “I--he framed his son-in-law?”  
  
  
    “Did I forget to mention that Jamie and I didn’t get married here?”  
  
  
    “I see. What’s the bottom-line? Everyone thinks the hero is the villain?”  
  
  
    “The bottom-line is that everyone thinks Vince Faraday is dead.”  
  
  
    “When you say everyone,” Peter began.  
  
  
    “I mean especially you--the other you. The Cape and Chess are archenemies.”  
  
  
    “You couldn’t think of anything more original than ‘The Cape’?”  
  
  
    “Really? That’s all you have to say?”  
  
  
    “My apologies; would you care for a drink?” Peter asked as he walked towards his liquor cabinet.  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    Orwell was fuming as she typed up the latest entry for her blog. Who the hell did Evans think he was? Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned much about him during the interview. She did, however, find out that he knew who she was--as did Vince. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She’d be willing to bet he had something to do with whatever had happened to Vince…and to her father, if Vince was right. Evans must have done something to them last night. But if he was working for her father, then why would he have attacked him? It didn’t add up. What game was he playing?  
  
  
    She looked over what she had written.  
  
  
    “ _NEW CANDIDATE ENTERS MAYORAL RACE  
  
  
    Fellow citizens of Palm City, Terry Ivan Matthew Evans announced his candidacy early this morning. The new contender vowed to clean up city hall and decried the murders of Marty Voyt and Vince Faraday, who were never brought to trial.  
  
  
    But who is Evans, really? Next to nothing is known about the man challenging the incumbent. However, evidence suggests that he was involved in an attack upon two of our citizens last night--”  
_  
  
    That was a bit vague, but she didn’t think any of her fellow citizens would feel sympathetic if she said that Chess was one of the victims. (And who could blame them?) Nor could she say Peter Fleming had been attacked; she’d look like an idiot if her father held a press conference and assured everyone he was just fine. The attack had been mental, not physical, but she couldn’t go into details she didn’t even have…  
  
  
    She vaguely wondered if her post could be considered libelous, considering the lack of hard evidence to back up her accusation. Though ARK was doing its level best to make sure that no one took Orwell seriously, she valued her reputation and usually had more facts before posting her suspicions. At the moment, a lawsuit was the last thing she was worried about. If Evans was dangerous, she had to warn the public. Besides, she was sure she’d find more proof to back up her theory soon…somehow. Who knew? Maybe after seeing her post, one of her fellow citizens would come forward with information about Evans.  
  
  
    She picked up her phone to call Vince and let him know she was on her way to see him.  
  
  
VFVFVFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    Vince’s phone rang as he accepted the glass from Peter.  
  
  
    “Hello?”  
  
  
    “Hi, Vince; I saw Evans. I think he may have something to do with whatever happened to you at the docks. I’ll explain more when I get there. I’m on my way.”  
  
  
    “Wait! When you get where?”  
  
  
    “To that cave you call home. Why?”  
  
  
    “Honey, I mean, Jamie, I’m not at home.”  
  
  
    “Well, where are you?”  
  
  
AUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
    “What makes you think I’m The Cape?”  
  
  
    “You were The Cape,” Fleming corrected. He had it all figured out. “That’s my fault, too, I suppose. You became The Cape after I nearly had you killed; that would explain your grudge against me. It stands to reason that without Chess, there would be no Cape.”  
  
  
    Vince hung his head; his cover was blown. This was a disaster.  
  
  
    “Relax, Faraday. I forgive you.”  
  
  
    “YOU FORGIVE ME?!” Was there no limit to Fleming’s arrogance? “You ungrateful slime! I saved your life,” he whispered.  
  
  
    “And then you blew up my production line.” Vince seethed. He should have let Fleming get blown up.  
  
  
    “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”  
  
  
    “‘Your house’; it happens to also be my daughter’s house and I suspect that it has been paid for by ARK Corporation.” Nevertheless, Peter turned to leave.  
  
  
AUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
    Jamie Faraday stood up from the table and headed out of the dining room. What were Vince and her father up to? Couldn’t they discuss whatever it was in front of her, over dinner? It wasn’t like them to keep secrets from her. Suddenly, she heard her husband’s voice coming from the study.  
  
  
    “YOU FORGIVE ME?!” What the hell? She couldn’t remember the last time Vince had been angry with her father. No, wait. The last time was when he was complaining about Raoul following them around, but that was when they were first dating.  
  
  
    “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”  
  
  
    Peter emerged from the study. His expression wasn’t angry, more like resigned.   
  
  
    “Dad, what’s going on?”  
  
  
    “It’s nothing, sweetheart; just a minor disagreement.” Vince came out into the hall. He was glaring daggers at Fleming, who pretended not to notice. “However, I’m afraid that I will have to take my leave now. I’ll take a rain check on dinner, alright?” He kissed his daughter goodbye. “I love you, darling.”  
  
  
    “I love you, too.” After she closed the door behind her father, she rounded on Vince. “Care to explain what just happened?”  
  
  
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I tried. This might sound like a strange question, but do you know where my cape is? No? I was afraid of that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Please tell me you’ve heard of The Carnival of Crime,” he said desperately.  
  
  
    “The Carnival of Crime,” she repeated. “Yes, I remember. I was the one that wrote the article when you made the bust.” Vince paled.  
  
  
    “What bust?”  
  
  
AUAUAUAUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
Owl Island Penitentiary  
  
  
    The guards unlocked the cell door. Ignoring his bald cellmate, they addressed the magician.  
  
  
    “Come on, Malini. You have a visitor.”  
  
  
    “What visitor?”  
  
  
    “The Chief of Police wants a word with you.”  
  
  
    “Then I presume you called my lawyer?” The guards laughed.   
  
  
    “Good one.”  
  
  
    “I’m not going to speak to him without my attorney present.”  
  
  
    “Fine; don’t speak to him, but you are going to see him.” They led him into a room where Vince Faraday was waiting for him.  
  
  
    “Leave us,” Vince instructed the guards.  
  
  
    “Are you sure that--”  
  
  
    “I’ll be fine; go.”  
  
  
    “We’ll be right outside, then.” After the guards left the room, Vince faced his old friend.  
  
  
    “Max, where is the cape?”  
  
  
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Faraday.”  
  
  
    “Yes, you do. Please, call me Vincent.”   
  
  
    “I’ll call you whatever you want, after you call my lawyer.”  
  
  
    “Who is your lawyer?”  
  
  
    “Dana Thompson.” Vince banged his head on the table.  
  
  
    “That’s just perfect. We don’t need to involve the lawyers--”  
  
  
    “I’ve heard that before.”  
  
  
    “I’m not trying to get you into any more trouble.”  
  
  
    “You’ll forgive me for not trusting the man who put me in here.”  
  
  
    “God, this is so messed up! Look, Max, I’m sorry about that. If I could take that back, I would. I need you to tell me where the cape is.”  
  
  
    “How do you know about the cape?”  
  
  
    “It’s a long story.”  
  
  
    “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere, Vincent.”  
  
  
    “I know because you gave it to me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is anyone out-of-character? Any problems with the plot twists? Anything you’d like to see more of? (Anything besides pairings.)
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to IA for letting me borrow the name for the Palm City newspaper; I’m sure you can see the effects of your influence (i.e. the joke about Scales).


	7. World Gone Mad

“Vincent, regrettably, I have not been drinking.” Max sighed. He’d been sober for far too long, ever since he’d been sent to Owl Island. “So I know I never did any such thing. If you’re trying to fish for information about this supposed cape--”  
  
  
    “You mean like the fact that it’s made entirely of spider silk? Or the fact that it was passed down from Kozmo to Kozmo or--”  
  
  
    “How did you know about that?” Max demanded.  
  
  
    “I told you. You gave me the cape.”  
  
  
    “I think I would remember that.”  
  
  
    “No, not if--” Vince cut himself off.  
  
  
    “If what?”  
  
  
    “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m not the Vince Faraday you think I am. I’m from another dimension.”  
  
  
    “You’re right; you’re crazy. Either that or you were drinking before you came here… I suppose you think you’re the next Kozmo?” Vince shook his head.  
  
  
    “No. You broke that tradition when you taught me how to be The Cape. Or the Max I know did. Please tell me you didn’t leave the cape with Gregor Molotov.” Max frowned.  
  
  
    “No, I didn’t. You know about Gregor?”  
  
  
    “Psychotic Russian contortionist that makes Ruvi seem friendly? Yeah, we’ve met. That’s not all I know. Listen to me! You told me that you’ve broken 92 bones in your body. You taught me the different escape illusions that can be done with a cape and Ruvi…” Vince trailed off as something occurred to him.  
  
  
    “Ruvi what?” Max wasn’t one to believe in something like parallel universes; he was a master of illusions and knew there was no such thing as magic. But the man before him knew things that he shouldn’t know. Maybe this was all a trick, but like any magician, Max had to know how it was done.  
  
  
    “Ruvi taught me how to hypnotize someone.” Hypnotism was one way to get information. Vince had never before considered hypnotizing Max, never wondered whether it was even possible. There were some people that couldn’t be hypnotized, right? Ruvi had warned him not to get cocky because a person had to be open to suggestion and not everyone was susceptible.  
  
  
    But then, if Vince was able to hypnotize Ruvi, getting inside Max’s mind should be child’s play. The guards outside would never have to know and if they did find out, so what? He was the Chief of Police and (he cringed) Peter Fleming’s son-in-law. Odds were the men would look the other way.  
  
  
    Oh, god. What was happening to him? Not even 24 hours in this world and Fleming was starting to rub off on him. He was starting to think of himself as above the rules. How could he even think of taking advantage of his position in ARK? Not that he could. If Portman was standing up to Fleming in this world, too, then ARK didn’t hold sway over the prisons.  
  
  
    But more importantly, how could he have considered hypnotizing Max of all people? It sounded taboo. There _had_ to be a better way to find out where the cape was. It belonged to Max and if he wasn’t going to give it to him voluntarily, then Vince didn’t want it.   
  
  
    Well, that wasn’t quite true. Vince really did want the cape, but he would do without it if necessary. Max interrupted his thoughts.  
  
  
    “Why do you want the cape anyway?”  
  
  
    “Because I’m about to go to war with Peter Fleming.”  
  
  
    “Oh? What happened? He decide you aren’t giving him grandchildren fast enough?” Max quipped. His laughter died away as he noticed the expression on the cop’s face. “You’re serious?”  
  
  
    “Completely; now you understand why I need your help. What do I have to do to convince you to tell me where the cape is?”  
  
  
    “Easy; get me out of here.” _Thwack!_ Vince’s head was going to become well acquainted with the table if this kept up. He groaned in frustration.  
  
  
    “Sure, easy. And why don’t I spring Rollo and Ruvi while I’m at it?” he asked sarcastically.  
  
  
    “That’s not a bad idea,” the magician replied.  
  
  
    “How do you expect me to help you escape?!”  
  
  
    “Now, Vincent: you don’t have to stage a jail-break. You could call my lawyer--”  
  
  
    “Honestly, right now a jail-break sounds better than calling Dana.” How could Vince face her, knowing she was engaged to another man? The thief arched an eyebrow. “Don’t ask. Are you saying you haven’t been convicted of any charges, yet?”  
  
  
    “None; the trial hasn’t even started.” Vince had an idea.  
  
  
    “But you have had your bail hearing?”  
  
  
VFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVF (Welcome to Canon) VFVFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    “This can’t be happening.” Orwell could not possibly be in her father’s penthouse, watching him share a drink with Vince. “I’m hallucinating. Evans must’ve doused me with something; that or he had his guards knock me unconscious.”  
  
  
    “Darling, you might feel better if you stopped pacing,” Peter suggested.  
  
  
    “Don’t you ‘darling’ me! You---you…” Orwell trailed off. Vince thought he heard her mutter “insufferable.” She turned to her partner. “What are you doing with him?”  
  
  
    “Jamie, I can explain.”  
  
  
    “No, you can’t. She’s not going to believe you,” Peter warned.  
  
  
    “Well, I’m not going to lie to her.”  
  
  
    “A lie would be more believable.”   
  
  
    Orwell whistled loudly to get their attention.  
  
  
    “What the hell is going on? I’ve heard you two banter before, but this is ridiculous. Just tell me the truth.” Her gaze was on Vince. She couldn’t look at her father. Why bother? He couldn’t be trusted.  
  
  
    “The truth is--” Vince was interrupted by a buzzing sound. Peter picked up the offending phone.  
  
  
    “What is it?” he asked.  
  
  
    “Sir,” began the man at the desk in the lobby. “There’s someone here to see you. I know he doesn’t have an appointment, but he insists that it’s urgent. He says he has information about The Cape.”  
  
  
    “Fine; send him up.”  
  
  
    “Send who up? Someone’s coming here, now? You know nobody can see Vince!” Orwell exclaimed.  
  
  
    “I thought you said I was your archenemy?” Peter asked before turning back towards his daughter. “Surely it’s me he should be worried about?” They heard the elevator door open and footsteps approach.   
  
  
    “Shit! Vince, get up! Hide! At least put your mask back on!” When Vince just gave her a dubious look and took another sip of his drink, she suspected that he wasn’t on his first glass. Her father seemed equally unconcerned as he strolled to the door to open it. Panicking, she placed herself in front of Vince, hoping to shield him from the eyes of the incoming visitor.   
  
  
    “Good day,” the newcomer greeted in a British accent. “Peter Fleming, I presume?”  
  
  
    “Last I checked. And you would be?”  
  
  
    “H.G. Wells, at your service.” Orwell scoffed.  
  
  
    “Great, another lunatic.”  
  
  
    “I beg your pardon?”  
  
  
    “You’ll have to forgive my daughter. I believe she’s had a long day. Please, come in. Now, when you say you’re H.G. Wells--”  
  
  
    “Ah, yes. People do get stuck on the fact that I’m supposed to be dead. I can assure you, it’s true.”  
  
  
    “Yeah, right. If he’s H.G. Wells, then I’m George Orwell.”  
  
  
    “I understand you go by just ‘Orwell,’ Miss Fleming,” Wells replied. “Incidentally, you can stop trying to hide Mr. Faraday behind you. I deduced that I would find him here. I must say, it makes things easier for me.”  
  
  
    “Wait, what?”  
  
  
    “Forgive me. Are you familiar with my book, ‘The Time Machine’?” Orwell nodded. “A common misconception is that it is science fiction. However, I did build a time machine.”  
  
  
    “So, you’re a dead author that can travel through time?” Orwell asked. Yep, the guy was definitely a lunatic.  
  
  
    “From my perspective, I have yet to die. Time travel has allowed me to go to the future, to visit years I otherwise would never see and learn things I otherwise would not know. To be blunt, I know that Mr. Faraday is supposed to be The Cape--”  
  
  
    “No, he isn’t!” Orwell interjected. Wells ignored her interruption.  
  
  
    “--and Mr. Fleming is supposed to be Chess. Except that you’re not them because you’re from another dimension.” Vince finally spoke up.  
  
  
    “Do you know how we can get home?”  
  
  
    “Yes, I do.”  
  
  
    “Wait, back up! What’s going on?” Orwell demanded.  
  
  
    “The machine I invented is capable of traversing not simply time, but also dimensions---parallel worlds, if you prefer. These worlds are nearly identical to ours, though they differ in various respects.”  
  
  
    “Then you could take us back,” Peter put in.  
  
  
    “Indeed, that’s why I’m here.”  
  
  
    “Hold on a second! Are you trying to tell me that these two,” she pointed at Vince and her father, “are from a different universe?”  
  
  
    “Precisely; they are from a world where they are not enemies, but family.”  
  
  
    “This is preposterous. I mean, I know they haven’t been acting like themselves today, but that’s because Evans--”  
  
  
    “Ah, yes. I’m glad you brought him up. You see, I was in Utopia--”  
  
  
    “Honestly, Utopia? That’s even less plausible than traveling across time and universes.”  
  
  
    “She’s not much of an optimist. I’m afraid that might be my fault, or my counterpart’s fault,” Peter explained.  
  
  
    “It--oh, very well. I was in the future, which is far better than anything you could imagine, when it changed.”  
  
  
    “Does it do that a lot?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    “When Tempus is involved, yes.” Wells sighed.  
  
  
    “And who is Tempus?” Orwell asked.  
  
  
    “A man who positively loathed Utopia.”  
  
  
    “How can anyone loath Utopia?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    “Oh, Vince. You are drunk, aren’t you?” Orwell shook her head at Vince. Wells cleared his throat. “Sorry, go on.”  
  
  
    “Tempus, regrettably, keeps getting his hands on my invention and uses it to change things so they are more to his liking.”  
  
  
    “By doing what?” Peter questioned.  
  
  
    “Usually by trying to eliminate Superman and erasing Utopia altogether. This time, the changes were restricted to a certain region--”  
  
  
    “Let me guess, Palm City.”  
  
  
    “Right you are, Vince. So, I did some research to try to find out what he changed when I came across something you wrote in your blog, Orwell; specifically, this afternoon’s entry about your new mayoral candidate.”  
  
  
    “I know I made some accusations in there, but I don’t recall charging him with destroying Utopia.”  
  
  
    “You didn’t have to. I realized at once that he was Tempus.” At their puzzled looks, he continued. “Terry Ivan Matthew Evans: T.I.M.E. He’s not a very subtle individual, but then I think he wanted me to find him.”  
  
  
    “He’s the one that brought us here,” Peter realized. “Why would he do that?”  
  
  
    “He believed that your counterparts would have gotten in the way of his plans to take over the city.”  
      
  
AUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
     _This was more like it_ , Vince thought as he broke into Fleming’s penthouse. Max had taken him straight to the cape, after Vince had bailed him out of prison. Sergeant Faraday would never have been able to afford to pay for his friend’s bail on his salary. (Seriously, hadn’t the judge ever heard of the prohibition against excessive bail?) However, Vince figured his father-in-law could reimburse him. He grinned evilly at that thought, though he would never admit it. Now to confront the madman… _Ugh._ Someone’s arm was wrapped around his throat. Fleming flipped the lights on, revealing Scales as Vince’s attacker.  
  
  
    “Faraday, I’d like you to meet my bodyguard: Dominic Raoul.”  
  
  
    “You mean this berk is Faraday?” Scales started to loosen his grip on Vince’s throat, but a gesture from Fleming had him holding on.  
  
  
    “Where on earth did you get a hold of that cape? I haven’t even managed to order a new pair of contacts, yet.”  
  
  
    “ _Tell--him--to--let--go--of--me,”_ Vince gasped out.  
  
  
    “If you insist.” At Fleming’s signal, Raoul released Vince and stepped back. “I suppose breaking your windpipe would just spoil the fun. Why must you insist that we remain enemies?”  
  
  
    “Would you like the long answer or the short one?”  
  
  
    “I would like for us to put the past behind us. We can have a fresh start. There’s no need for us to keep old grudges in this world.”  
  
  
    “And I suppose you’re going to stop being Chess?”  
  
 _  
I won’t allow that, Peter._  
  
  
    “Nothing would make me happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Herb’s appearance does herald the impending ending of the fic. Perhaps there’ll be another chapter or an epilogue or combination chapter and epilogue. We’ll see.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for sticking with the story this far. So, what do you think? Wish AU!Dana was here? Enjoyed the banter? Want me to hurry up and put the fic out of its misery?


	8. The World Begins Again

“Like I believe that,” Vince replied, “but it doesn’t matter. Even if you gave up being your alter-ego tomorrow, it wouldn’t bring back the people you’ve killed--”  
  
  
    “They’re not dead here,” Fleming pointed out. Vince ignored him.  
  
  
    “--It wouldn’t change the fact that someone has to bring you to justice and that someone’s going to be me.”  
  
  
    “And how is it going to be you if you return to that world?”  
  
  
    “Not if, when. I am going to go home. My family--my real family--is back there. And I’m not going back by myself. You’re going with me.”  
  
  
    Fleming huffed.  
  
  
    “Alright, the game wouldn’t be fun if you weren’t here to play it,” Peter admitted. He didn’t allow Faraday to interrupt him. “It is a game; you might as well accept it. Anyway, this is a moot point because neither of us has the foggiest idea of how to get back to our world.”  
  
  
    “I believe I may be of some assistance.”  
  
  
    The three men, caught off guard, spun to see the intruder. Scales, as head of Fleming’s security, inwardly cursed his oversight. If he hadn’t allowed himself to be distracted by what was apparently a family dispute (albeit one he didn’t understand), this bloke would never have gotten into Fleming’s home.  
  
  
    “How’d you get up ’ere?” he asked.   
  
  
    “It was surprisingly easy, Mr. Raoul, is it?”  
  
  
    “And you are?” Peter asked.  
  
  
    “Mr. Wells. If you’ll permit me, I can explain to you the solution to your predicament.”  
  
  
VFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFVFV (Welcome back to canon) VFVFVFVFVFVFVF  
  
  
    Tempus was exiting the building where he’d set up his campaign office when he was assaulted. A cape wrapped itself around his throat, hoisting him in the air and up against the wall.   
  
  
    “So you’re the son of a bitch that thinks he can play with people’s lives,” The Cape all but snarled. Tempus glanced over Vince’s shoulder, and spied Chess, in all his glory. The contacts may have kept any emotion from showing in his eyes, but his arms were crossed across his chest. For perhaps the first time, he and the hero were on the same side.  
  
  
    “And you’re definitely not the Vince Faraday I left in your cave this morning, so Herb must be around somewhere. What are you complaining about, anyway? That I left the two of you as in-laws? You should be happy; I could’ve dropped you in a universe where you were lovers,” Tempus said.  
  
  
    Peter kept his expression carefully blank, though his face went a shade paler. Vince was more than startled. Feeling nauseous, he dropped his hold on Tempus.   
  
  
    “He’s kidding, right?”  
  
  
    Tempus tried to take advantage of the hero’s distraction to escape, but he didn’t get far before someone kicked him in the knee. Looking down, he saw his attacker, Rollo.  
  
  
    “I took the liberty of bringing in the cavalry,” said Wells, who was right behind Rollo. “It’s over, Tempus. You’re coming with me.”  
  
  
    “There you are, Herb. I’m surprised you didn’t bring the Boy Scout with you. Listen, there’s something I wanted to ask you…” Tempus hardly put up a fight as he was guided into the time machine. Perhaps this was due to the sight of Rollo, who looked eager to lay his hands on him. Wells didn’t get into the time machine right away. He wanted to see a couple of things taken care of, first.  
  
  
    “Vince, is that really you?” Orwell ran up to her partner and hugged him tight. “Thank god you’re back! Wells already brought back the other you and the other…” she trailed off as she felt those eyes on her.  
  
  
    “Jamie?” Peter pulled his mask off and approached his daughter.  
  
  
    “I almost forgot you were here,” Orwell replied.   
  
  
    “Can we talk?” Peter asked.  
  
  
    “I’d rather we didn’t. Besides, you wouldn’t remember it.” Her father had definitely gone off the deep end. He was still wearing his Chess contacts and he honestly thought she would talk to him?  
  
  
    “What do you mean I wouldn’t remember it?”  
  
  
    “Before bringing your counterparts back,” Wells began, “we had them hypnotized so they wouldn’t remember today’s events.”   
  
  
     _Ruvi_ , Vince thought. How much did he and Rollo know about what had happened?  
  
  
    “I would have preferred to drop you off at the precise time Tempus kidnapped you, but Orwell convinced me hypnotism would be simpler. Now that you’re back where you belong and Tempus is taken care of, you’ll both have to be hypnotized, too.”  
  
  
    “Wait, why the both of us?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    “You both learned things today that you weren’t supposed to know,” Wells explained. “You both found out that Orwell is Jamie Fleming and he discovered your secret identity.”  
  
  
    “That’s only fair. Faraday knows that I’m Chess.”  
  
  
    “But you swore that you’d kill my family,” Vince reminded him.  
  
  
   _He has you there, Peter._  
  
  
    “You hypnotize him,” Orwell said to Vince, “and then Ruvi will take care of you. Can you forgive me, Vince?”  
  
  
    “It hurts that you didn’t tell me and now I’m going to forget! You’d better tell me soon.”  
  
  
    “Sure, I’ll just walk up to you and say, ‘guess what, Vince? I’m Chess’ daughter.’ I’m sure you’d react so well to finding that out.”  
  
  
    “I can handle it. You’re not your father.” Vince turned towards Fleming.  
  
  
    “Can I at least hug my daughter goodbye, first, considering I might never see her again?” They looked at Orwell. She hesitated, and then nodded. The next thing she knew, she was being embraced tightly.  
  
  
    “I love you, Jamie. Don’t you ever forget that,” Peter said, before stepping back and facing The Cape. “I’m ready.”  
  
  
PFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPFPF  
  
  
    The next day an upper-level ARK employee knocked on the door to Fleming’s office.  
  
  
    “Come in, Stoykova. Have a seat,” Peter said as he continued to gaze out his window.  
  
  
    “You wanted to see me, Mr. Fleming?”  
  
  
    “Yes. You’re to call off the search for my daughter.”  
  
  
    “You’ve given up on finding her, sir?”  
  
  
    “You could say I had an epiphany last night. I’m not giving up. I’ve just realized that if she’s going to return, she has to want to come back.” The feeling of loneliness, of having lost his family weighed on him stronger than it had since she first left. Worse was this nagging sense of guilt, of feeling that this was his fault, which he couldn’t shake.  
  
  
    “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”  
  
  
     “Yes. I am also cancelling the search for the blogger, Orwell.”  
  
  
    “But sir--”  
  
  
    “It’s a waste of time and resources. Those resources are going to be redirected to the search for The Cape. I want him found and brought to me--alive.”  
  
  
    “Understood, Mr. Fleming.”  
  
  
    “That will be all, Stoykova. You may go.”  
  
  
    Peter finally sat down at his desk and opened up a file. Hmm, a woman who had done research funded by Luthor Corp. was recently released from prison and planning to set up shop in Palm City. Could be worth looking into.  
  
  
AUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAUAU  
  
  
    “Hello? Just a second,” Jack handed the home phone to Dana. “It’s for you.”  
  
  
    “Hello? Yes, this is Dana Thompson. What’s happened? You’ve got to be kidding me!”  
  
  
    “What is it?” Jack asked his fiancée.   
  
  
    “You remember when the Chief of Police busted the Carnival of Crime?”  
  
  
    “Right, why?”  
  
  
    “He bailed the ringleader, my client, Max Malini, out of prison last night. I better head to Trolley Park, make sure Malini’s alright and remind him he can’t skip town. Then I’m going to go over to ARK and find out what kind of game Faraday thinks he’s playing. See you tonight!”  
  
  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end. Hope you found the conclusion satisfying.
> 
> Thanks to popular demand, you have AU!Dana’s cameo.


End file.
